Ain't No Rest For The Wicked
by MadDoll
Summary: AU/AHDamon Salvatore, the wealthy CEO of Salvatec Pharmaceuticals finds himself in a strip club owned by the mysterious Mikaelsons where he meets a beautiful disaster in a corset, complete with a hidden secret and a stark resemblance to his deceased wife, Katherine. Will he be able to save her from herself, or will feelings get in the way, as he finds himself tumbling down with her
1. Chapter 1

She probably looked beautiful, sitting on the Wickery Bridge. I could almost see the heels of her red Jimmy Choo's—that's what she called them, right?—tapping the wood with a thud as her feet dangled over the edge. Her dark chestnut curls would be swept over her shoulder, unruly wisps caressing her tanned face; so picturesque against the melted late October sunrise.

Sometimes, I wondered if she cried; maybe a tear would slip, dripping from a meticulously curled eyelash to trace a dark path down her cheek to possibly land on a manicured french tip grasping the rough, wooden railing or down, further, a hundred feet to join the water beneath. Or maybe she didn't. Katherine was always fickle that way. Maybe she jumped with fervor, passion, and purpose and stared the water down like the way she always used to stare any challenge down, whether it be a game of pool or the freckled red-head holding_ her_ last pair of Prada patent leather pumps. I could almost hear it sometimes, if I closed my eyes and listened hard enough, the whooshing sound of the water below, the splash that followed once she let go.

SWOOOSH.

I shot up in bed, rubbing my eyes from the ice cold water that'd been splashed on me by none other than my _rub rub_... baby brother, of course. "What the hell?" I demanded, wiping the water from my face.

"Jesus Christ, Damon. You have a press conference in forty-five minutes and you're still in bed!" Stefan yelled, a bucket tucked under his right arm. But all I was thinking about was that I should really, really consider asking him where he got his gel, because no matter how grand his aggressive gestures were his sandy brown hair had not moved a bit. I sighed, sinking back into my covers. "Damon."

"What? What? I'm getting ready." The soaked pillow softened my mumbles.

"Damon, you're my best friend, my brother, but you really have to get out of this funk." I heard the sigh in his voice, the tone that said_ I give up, do whatever the hell you want._ "I mean we could always talk-"

"I'm getting up, Stefan. You can go now," I said, nuzzling my pillow for one more moment before swinging a leg over my bed. _No, I'd rather not talk about it._

I saw him flinch with the corner of my eye.

"I know you're grieving, Damon. I know it hurts. But it's been ten months and the world's gotten over it, they're going to stop giving you free passes."

"I said, I'm good." I got up, striding past him to get a towel from the bathroom. "And by the way, you know you're gonna be the one washing my sheets right? I fired Rita and Marlane last weekend."

"Why?" _They were shit-talking my dead wife, that's fucking why._

"I don't know Stefan," I said to the mirror, as I wiped my cheek. "Just felt like it."

"God," I heard him take a deep breath before continuing, "You know I really didn't want to have to give this to you."

"Give what?"

"I see how this has taken a lot out of you-"

"I think we've already established this," I said, sticking a head out of the bathroom to watch him fidget, his hand going into his pocket.

"Know I'm trying to help you Damon."

I paused, glancing back at him.

"I don't need fucking-"

"Here! Just take it. Alaric thought it would do you good," he said almost reluctantly, before revealing a small red card from his pocket. I eyed him, before grabbing the card.

_Mikaelson's House of Splendors_

_Where fantasies become reality_

was engraved in gold, silhouettes of women behind the lettering.

No.

I looked up at him incredulously before bursting out laughing.

"Is this what I think it is?"

I see him shifting from foot to foot. "Hey, just passing it on."

"God knows you need it more than I do," I mumbled under my breath.

"Just keep it, jeesh. I'm just trying to help."

"I think you've done good enough," I informed, smirking. "But this is not necessary."

"Whatever, Damon do what you want with it. I'll see you downstairs in ten minutes," Stefan added with finality.

* * *

I love my brother.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But I was so close to strangling him, my hands were itching at the podium. He said this wouldn't be like the others.

"Were you present at Ms. Katherine Salvatore's fall?"

"Was it suicide?"

"Did someone murder her Mr. Salvatore?"

"Do you feel responsible?"

They reminded me of those little kids in the back seat of a family minivan, continuously pounding 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?' _Did you kill her? Did you kill her? Did you kill her?_ until you're just about ready to strangle one of those little motherfuckers on the spot, just for a brief moment of peace and quiet.

"Enough! We are here to talk about the Vervain, no personal questions allowed," Alaric finally said taking control of the microphone. It's been like this for months, and I didn't know if I could take another damn reporter asking about _her._ But thank the lord for Alaric. And soon enough the voices began to finally shut the fuck up, until a reporter raised his hand. "Yes?" Alaric asked the pudgy man shifting in the front seat, a large camera heaved onto one pudgy shoulder.

"Was she sleeping with someone else? Mr. Salvatore? Were the rumors true?"

It was the final straw.

The final '_Are we there yet_?' before the strangling came.

I mean they must have known they had it coming. They'd be stupid not to, and before anyone could pull me back or whisper a '_be calm, don't listen to them_' in my ear, I rushed down the stadium the familiar burning of rage at the pit of my stomach firing every movement. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then, but at the same time insanely fast. I just remembering pulling my fist back, and watching it connect with said reporter's nose. I imagined how I must've smiled with unbridled satisfaction. By the time his pudge hit the ground, I almost fucking rejoiced whew peace and quiet at last.

But the stark silence in the room reminded me of where I was and what I just did.

I think I heard a pin drop.

But it was a tiny, minute moment of comfort as everyone seemed to swoop in. It was like a drain, and I was in the middle. Except the water was made of voices upon voices, and hands grasping me from wherever which way.

Just let the nightmare stop.

* * *

"Damon! Damn it, Damon!" Stefan seemed to get increasingly more agitated with every passing day, and not to mention hella fucking irritating.

"What? What is it now?" I groggily swiveled my chair around to face him glaring at me from across the mess of papers on my desk.

"You would be lucky if that man doesn't press criminal charges," he said pinching the bridge of his nose, the way Dad always used to whenever he caught me doing something that would, and I quote '_reflect negatively onto this family_', I could practically hear the gruff Italian accent that came along with it.

I shook my head from the memory before seeing Stefan still looking at me with our mother's green eyes and I realized that he was expecting me to say something. "Well it's nothing we can't handle," I said, absentmindedly rubbing the bandages on my knuckles at the memory.

"Fuck," Stefan said under his breath. "You have to play the sympathy card; that is the only way this will work."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If that man sues you, your business will be down to shit. _Our _business. People are already deeming us unreliable to work with. The Lockwoods are beginning to pile on shares as it is, and we can't have that Damon. No more bad press." I could see how hard he was trying to push past my apathy, and he should really get a participation medal and pat on the back for it (_here's for trying_) but at this moment in time I'm just finding it increasingly harder to care much about anything anymore. It's like she was my drive, my passion, and focus and without her I was simply left purposeless.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, feigning concern as I swiveled back around to face the city through the laminated glass window, tracing a yellow taxi weaving in and out of traffic.

"I don't fucking know, Damon. Charity? Change a life, shit. Do anything to make yourself look better, because I don't know what to do with you anymore. You are this company, don't you see that? Your image is everything."

"Calm down, Stefan. God, try not bursting a vein while you're at it," Alaric said finally speaking up. "I think what Damon needs is a break."

"Damn, right," I replied, as the taxi finally faded out of sight.

"Where's that card?" Alaric asked.

"I gave it to Damon."

"Come on buddy, we're visiting Mystic Falls' red light district."

"No! Absolutely not!" Stefan stood up. "Not right now! We're in the middle of a discussion."

"It'll be just like old times," he said, completely ignoring Stefan's protests. _Before you married Katherine_. "Come on, don't you miss it Damon? We can be badass again, the dynamic duo."

"Hell, I don't know about you but I'm still badass." I stood up, with a grin. I'd give absolutely anything for a change of scenery; something other than these same white plastered walls.

"Prove it! I know you'll love the place, it's completely exclusive. And the best part is that it's literally underground. No one will know who you are and if anyone does, fuck they'll be too ashamed to tell anyone that they were even there. Besides, who would expect you, the CEO of Salvatec Pharmaceuticals, and the capital source of vervain-infused products to be spending time downtown? It's perfect!"

"Well, I for one think this is a shitty idea," Stefan said dejectedly, even his hair seemed to bow down in dejection as he plopped back down on the tight leather chair, I guess even superhero gel couldn't fight disappointment.

"You think everything fun is a shitty idea, Stef. Me and Damon are gonna have a fucking ball, and if you wanna come with, you know where we'll be."

"Well, I'm the only adult here. And we adults have business to attend to."

"Have fun, Steffie," Alaric smiled, before I followed him out the door, loosening my tie.

One night out shouldn't be that bad.

* * *

Alaric drove, and by the looks of it he's definitely been at the place numerous times. We stopped in front of what looked like a tiny shop. He smirked at me before we got out of the car. It was quiet; the street lights illuminated red roof tiles atop a dilapidated building. A thick layer of dust obscured the windows, throwing a brown tint to everything inside. The only sound out were the scratching of cats in the dumpsters and the crunch of the gravel as we got closer to the steps, framed by the occasional roar of some obnoxious motorcycle echoing in the night. The vague smell of Chinese take-out permeated the air, and I spotted a neon 'Red Dragon' sign from across the street.

"Um. Are you sure this is the place?" I asked him as we approached what looked like a tiny shop with the words 'Mikaelson's' flashing in red and gold. It didn't make any sense.

"Oh, this is the place alright." He opened the glass door, the bell on top chimed signaling our entry. I followed Alaric as we walked past an aisle of cheap shampoos before reaching the counter, where a woman with wavy blonde hair stood smiling across from us, a dimple popping on her reddened cheeks. She looked young, about early twenties, and by the looks she was giving Alaric, she knew him very well.

"Rebekah."

"Ric, how nice to see you again," she replied, a British accent prevalent in her tone. "And who's your friend?"

"Damon." I shook hands with her.

"The usual?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, before facing me. "You have the card?"

I fished in my pockets, before feeling for the sharp edge of the card Stefan had handed me earlier. "And I also need your ID," she said facing me. I looked at Ric incredulously, my mind half made up to leave the place altogether.

"What are you waiting for?" Alaric asked. I rolled my eyes, fishing my wallet out and flashing her my ID.

"Oooh Salvatore. As in the Vervain company Salvatore? Your products are amazing."

I gave her one of my disarming smiles. "The one and only."

She chuckled, "Welcome in." She turned around, leading us into the small entry behind her. It was dim, the only thing illuminating the narrow hallway was a series of old Christmas lights stapled to the wall. I have to thank Ric for originality, at least. It was stuffy with the smell of boxes, but before we knew it we reached the end of the hall, walking past a few doors before we reached the one at the very end. She winked at me before opening it, revealing a set of stairs leading down to what looked like another dimension. The music was so loud that the lyrics were barely discernible, and all I could see were strobe lights, the room illuminated in red. "Welcome to the Mikaelson's House of Splendors."

"Thanks Beck," Alaric said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before descending down the steps. I nodded at her before following Alaric.

It was definitely another dimension indeed. It had to be. The place was booming, and I could practically feel my eardrums collapsing. But I couldn't help but notice the prevalent, suit-wearing men. What unnerved me the most was the fact that I recognized some of them. What the hell was this place? I ducked my head down, until Alaric and I found a table by the center stage. It was a huge half circle, which extended out into a kind of catwalk. Women were walking around in skimpy outfits and high heels, one of them bending over to give us a drink. "You boys just arrived right on time. Our main event is about to begin," she said with a curt smile before moving on to another table.

And soon enough spotlights appeared on the red curtain, the lights dimming slightly as it opened.

"This is my favorite part," he yelled into my left ear.

I watched as a woman stepped out on stage in a sequined gown barely covering her grotesquely large breasts a mike pressed to her lips, "Thank you boys for coming out tonight! Are you having fun?" she asked with a confident smile, as the men howled and whistled from around us, including Alaric. "To thank you, my girls have prepared something special just for you." The crowd grew even more feverish, the clapping increased, and the woman's smile widened. "Hailing from her homeland in Bulgaria," the gruff yells heightened at this, "I feature the beautiful, the exotic, Constantinova and the Kitty Cats!" The woman said before slinking off stage, I'm surprised her back didn't give out before she could make it all the way down.

"That's Esther Mikaelson, she's the owner of the place," Alaric yelled. I nodded, before my attention was brought back to the stage as the curtains opened, background lights illuminating the silhouettes of the women on stage. Music began blaring through the speakers, as the women sauntered forward. I liked it, so far. I did, because what red-blooded male wouldn't? But, they weren't _her_ and for that simple fact, I couldn't get as excited as Alaric was. He was practically ready to jump from his seat. "Isn't this great?" I simply nodded once more, taking a sip from my drink.

Suddenly, one of the women began singing, I stood up a little straighter. That was _some_ voice, holy shit.

_I bust the windows out your car._

_And no it didn't mend my broken heart_

_I'll probably always have these ugly scars._

_But right now I don't care about that part._

As the girls spread out, they revealed a tall red chair in the middle of the stage. I could see the silhouette of long hair, and tall heels as it hung over the edge of the chair, but her face was obscured by darkness.

_I bust the windows out ya car_

_You know I did it cos I left my mark_

_Wrote my initials with the crowbar_

_And then I drove off into the dark_

The movements of the ladies dancing around her were mesmerizing though, and I had half a mind to get these girls some kind of record label or a stint in Vegas, but nothing - and I mean _nothing_ could've prepared me for the main event. Suddenly the lights switched on, revealing where the voice had been coming from and I almost spit my scotch onto the sticky mess of a table in front of us. This must be 'Constantinova'.

It was like my breath was knocked out of me, and suddenly I understood what the men were howling at.

She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes on. The fact that she had killer legs were obvious by her silhouette, but the lights revealed just how smooth and tanned it was as she slowly slid her legs to the front of the seat, bending over to reveal the cleavage spilling from her corset top. She grabbed a crowbar from under the seat, before turning heavy lidded eyes onto the crowd, sauntering to join the rest of her girls.

_But it don't comfort to my broken heart_

_You could never feel how I felt that day_

_Until it happens baby you don't know pain_

Her petite red lips quivered as she sang the notes. There was simply something in the way she moved, it was as if every fluid stroke of her arms or sway of her hips held a dark secret only meant for whoever took the extra care to pay attention.

And it wasn't too long before each of the girls struck a pose, ending the dance to the roar of the crowd.

"Well, shit." I said, sitting back into the plush seat.

Alaric laughed, "I thought you'd like her."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? She's Katherine reincarnate." A pang of hurt hit me in the chest at the mention of her. But what was worse was the fact that she'd completely slipped my mind as soon as I saw the girl on stage. I'm definitely going to hell. Alaric seemed to sense my sudden change in composure when he swiftly added, "Besides she's not affordable."

"Maybe I don't intend to buy." I smirked, before standing up.

"Wait, hold up," Alaric stood, amusement evident in his voice. "You're here to relax remember?"

"Exactly." I finished the rest of my drink, feeling the liquid courage burning down my throat as I tried to find the woman.

* * *

**Elena's POV**

"I'm scared for you, babe," Caroline said, before loading her tray with drinks.

"Why is that?" I asked, popping a cherry in my mouth.

"Vicky looks like she's about to eat you alive. I was surprised she didn't push you off the stage, God."

I laughed, before shrugging my shoulders. "I don't care about her."

"Good for you. Besides, she's just jealous 'cause you're Klaus's new favorite."

I chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

She gave me a look, "You're really gonna ask that? He personalizes all your outfits! There's a reason why you're 'Constantinova' and we're the fucking 'Kitty Cats'."

I laughed before closing my lips over the cigarette dangling between my fingers. "I guess."

"Well am I gonna see you after your shift? I'm getting our stash from Kol, in about…thirty minutes."

"You don't have a client tonight?"

"Kol is my client," she winked, before strutting away drinks on hand.

I smiled at her, before taking another drag.

_She's just jealous 'cause you're Klaus's new favorite_, her chipper voice echoed in my desolate mind. Oh, the price of being the favorite. I opened my eyes, glancing down at my right wrist and the barely discernible purple bruise staining the skin. I really need to cover that up. Men didn't like the evidence of other men on their playthings.

I took one last drag, watching the embers eat away at my last source of happiness. I didn't realize how much time had passed until I heard Caroline again.

"Elena!" I turned to see her approaching me, circle rings replaced the tall glasses on her tray. "I think Klaus wants to see you. He's up in his office. Aw, guess we're not meeting up after then?"

"Probably not," I said, before maneuvering myself between the meat slabs of gyrating men and half naked women. I sighed, breathing in the stale humidity that their mingled sweat produced, until I finally reached the metal stairs.

I was in the hallway fist poised to knock, before I heard the muffled voices from behind the brown door.

_"I'm sorry, I'll let you meet her but what you're asking for is simply not possible."_

_"Well, I suggest you make it possible."_

_"You see, someone had already paid beforehand for her time, and it's an exceptionally large sum of money. We'd benefit immensely if-"_

_"What you don't understand is the fact that I just don't care. Do as I say, or I'll shut this branch down."_

Then the sound of heavy footsteps followed by the familiar _click clack_ of heels grew louder, and I quickly knocked. The door opened, revealing a man I've never seen before, dressed impeccably in a dark suit, hand in hand with a tall thin woman whose cloud of brunette hair obscured her face from my view. The man had soft eyes, making it hard to believe that he'd been the voice intimidating_ the_ Klaus Mikaelson. I felt a shower of disgust in the way he eyed me, before striding out with the girl. That must've been the new management the other girls were whispering about.

"Hello, my love," Klaus drawled. "Come in!" I sighed, walking to the overly stuffed couches in front of his desk. If Madam Esther was the puppeteer of the underground shows, Klaus was the doll maker. And, he did love to play with his dolls.

I sat, watching the yellowed walls behind the light brown curls plastered onto his forehead. "Darling, a request has been made for you." I tore my eyes away, and forced myself to look up at my warden. I kept my lips pressed in a tight line, suddenly hating the man with the soft eyes with a passion."That means," he continued, "that you are entertaining someone tonight, my dear."

"Okay," I said. "Is that all?" I sighed, already formulating the lie I would later tell Jeremy as to exactly why I wasn't able to make it home in the morning. I could already see the betrayal that would play in his bright brown eyes, and the resulting guilt that would settle at the pit of my stomach because of it.

"Oh, don't look so sad. You're breaking my heart. I promise it won't be that bad."

"So I hear," I said standing up. "Who's the client?"

"Damon Salvatore, the head of that Pharmaceutical company near Second Street." Oh, right. The playboy turned husband turned widow, everyone knew about him. I tried to contain my surprise, from what I've seen a man like that had no business being in a whorehouse. Every woman would pay _him_ for a night. I could have it worse, I suppose. "He's down by the bar, I hear."

I nodded. "Are we done?"

"You may go." I stood back up, making my way to the door. However, before I was out I heard Klaus's voice from behind me.

"Wait."

I turned. "What?"

"I want you to rake in as much as you can from this fellow, you understand? He's…a special client. And special clients usually give especially bountiful profits - if stroked the right away." I nodded stiffly, like a robot that had just been programmed her master's command."Yes. Now go on, work your magic on the poor fellow." I shut the door behind me, the image of Jeremy walking down the steps of his school a diploma in his hands, providing a sliver of comfort.

_Showtime._

* * *

**Damon POV**

I felt almost guilty for leaving Alaric, but seeing as he was busy, eased the guilt some. The search was futile, and I really needed another drink.

Why was I even here? This isn't my place. Alaric has his tastes, but this isn't mine. At least not anymore. I closed my eyes, rubbing my head against my hands, "And that'd be $35.00, sir," a voice above me said. I raised my head as he placed the drink in front of me. I nodded, taking out my wallet, but before I could hand my money I heard a familiar voice from behind me, halting my movements.

"Don't listen to him."

I turned, suddenly finding myself face to face with the Goddess on the stage. "Gosh, Elena. Do you always have to be such a rat?" the man in front of me said.

"You know you love me," she replied, laughing. "The drink's $25."

I glared at the man who looked on apologetically. "Hey, we all aren't billionaire businessmen," he mumbled before helping another customer.

"He's a dick, don't pay attention to him," she said before her lips quirked up in an infectious smile. "Elena." I was so busy reminding myself to breathe that I didn't notice her hand had been held out, she was even more beautiful in person if that were even possible. I rushed to take it, causing her to chuckle softly as she slid into the chair across from me.

Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? I coughed, "Not Constantinova?"

"That's just for show. They insisted it gave me a more exotic feel, but don't tell the Madam I told you that," she said with a wink. "How about you? What's your name?"

"Damon Salvatore."

"Salvatore, huh?" she said. "You wouldn't happen to be that philanthropist, business owner, vervain guy now would you?"

"You forgot dashing, charming, and irresistible."

She laughed, and holy shit what I would give to hear_ that_ again. "And modest."

"Of course," I said.

"Well, what's a catch like you doing at a place like this?" she asked, gesturing at the bartender to give her a drink.

"A friend dragged me, said it would be_ fun_."

"_Are_ you having fun?"

"I am now." She smiled before looking down, and if we weren't where we were and she wasn't who she was, I could even characterize the move as being shy. And it struck me how that could be. How something as sinfully seductive as this woman sitting across from me could still emanate an aura of pure innocence. It was the moment when she looked back up, thick eyelashes framing her wide doe eyes, that I knew that I had to have her. Not have her as in _have her_ (though I wouldn't complain), but to have her as in delve into her soul and figure out exactly who she was, she fascinated me endlessly. I always did have a thirst for enigmas. I sat up a little straighter, loving the fact that I had some effect on her. "Now what are _you_ doing in a place like this?"

Her mouth parted just a little, and it looked like she was about to say something else before replying, "Well…we all aren't billionaire businessmen," she said, echoing the bartender's earlier words with a chuckle. "Besides, it takes more than a glass of champagne to hear about my back story, honey."

"How about two?" I asked, inching my chair closer to her.

She bit her lower lip, and I watched until it popped out from her pearly whites, slightly swollen. God, how I wanted to kiss her. I could lean in just slightly, capture those pink swollen lips, and feel them move against mine. I would run my tongue against her lower lip, until she succumbed with a gasp and let me in."Nope," she said. "Not telling. Besides, I'm more interested in learning about _you_." I shifted in my seat, lifting my eyes back up at hers.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm not the sharing type," I said before taking a drink.

"Seems we've reached a bit of an impasse," her eyes taunted me.

An idea struck me. "You up for a game?"

She appeared to be thinking for a bit, her face scrunching up and reminding me of the puppy Stefan had owned a few years back. "Okay, enlighten me, Mr. Salvatore."

"Alright," I said, smirking at her. "We can play twenty questions."

She gave me a strange look before nearly toppling over her chair laughing, but I kept my stance. "You're serious!" she said, attempting to reign in her laughter. "Alright, then. Twenty questions it is."

"Ground rules, no lying."

She giggled, before managing a straight face. "Of course."

"And you can pass. But you'd have to take a shot."

"Sounds fair. Let's get this game started," she straightened in her chair, and for a second we were just two people having fun, and _not_ in the midst of sin, sweat, and sex. "How old are you?" I was genuinely wondering.

"That's easy! I'm turning twenty-one in a few months," She smiled, grabbing a shot from the counter. I laughed. "Now, Mr. Charming, Dashing, and Irresistible. Why are you _really_ here?" She asked eyes sparkling from beneath her thick eyelashes.

"What gave it away?"

"Nothing. I'm just good at reading people."

"Well, what do you read about me?"

"Is this one of your questions?" she asked taking a sip from the martini glass, that Dick-the-bartender handed to her.

"Sure."

"Well…I see someone lost," she said with a kind of finality.

"Lost?"

"Yeah. To me, you look like someone who could have anything he wanted, but doesn't really know what he wants. So you go through your days, going through the motions, driving but unsure if the road you're on is still the right one. So you go to places like these, something _different_ from your daily motions; an escape, because that's the only way you can take a free breath and leave whatever it is you're running from behind, the thing that overwhelms you, and maybe - just maybe, you'd find what it is that you're _actually_ looking for." I stared at her, speechless. Who is this girl? She looked down, breaking my gaze and I had an urge to trace a finger to the bottom of her chin to lift her eyes back to mine.

But instead, I just took another drink."And you got all of this just from me sitting across from you?"

"Well, yeah. You're wearing Armani which tells me a few things. For one, you sir, are filthy rich, which already opens up a billion possibilities, places, and people that are all _not_ this seedy bar and _not_ someone like me. But you _choose_ not to. Why? Well, you want anonymity. The only reason anyone would want anonymity is because they're hiding from something; they don't want to be found. Or they want to create a separate persona other than themselves, but seeing as you didn't care to hide who you were from me, then you must be running. Besides, everyone's looking for an escape from their own personal hells they've created for themselves…" she suddenly shook her head. "And I am talking entirely way too much."

"I like it."

She simply smiled, "Your turn."

"How did you end up working here?"

She paused for a second before saying, "I'll take that shot."

"What?" I asked her incredulously. "That's not fair."

"I think it's completely fair. I just gave a stripper's psychoanalysis, I think I can pass. But you can ask me another one…"

I laughed. "Alright, I'll be nice. Do you have any siblings?"

I watched as her lips pressed in a tight line. "No," she said in a clipped voice. For some reason, I feel as if I crossed a barrier of some sort, and I suddenly desperately wished I could take my question back as I watched her shoulders deflate, the life seeming to flow out of her like a balloon. I was overwhelmed by the urgent need to make her happy. I just wanted to hear her laugh again.

* * *

_"Katherine!" I rushed inside the bathroom, nearly tearing the door off it's hinges as I watched the blood pooling on the floor from her wrist. I saw the ruby red slits on her arms, the life draining out of them, her left hand was quivering, fingers turning white with it's deathly grip on my razor. But that wasn't what scared me the most. It was the expression in her eyes, or the lack of. She was simply staring at the once white polished tiles, deaf to my yells. Tears were running down her cheeks, wetting my hands as I tried to wipe them away, her hair sticking to the white plastered walls. But there was nothing. I was holding nothing. She was nothing; a propped doll. Please God, I didn't care if she was yelling at me, throwing her heels at me, anything was better than the stark silence of just watching her tears fall and being so helpless. I just want her to be happy again._

* * *

Elena ran her hand over her thick brown locks, placing it over her shoulder and I almost choked on my drink at how much it reminded me of Katherine. Before I could stop myself I leaned in, watching the question in her eyes as I tucked a loose strand behind her ear and whispered, "Come home with me."

* * *

_Review Please! I'd like to know what you guys think since this story's super experimental for me and I'm still on the verge whether I should continue or not. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Elena POV**

"Come home with me." I felt his warm breath ghost over my skin, sending a familiar jolt in my lower belly. _Hook, Line, and Sinker _

"Not one for foreplay?" I asked him with an amused smile.

"Oh, I think we've played enough." He gave me a boyish grin, a promise of excitement. I really shouldn't be loving it as much as I am, but the butterflies and their incessant flapping at the pit of my stomach seemed to say otherwise. I could have it worse, I suppose. "Question. Is it a yes or a no?"

I watched his eyes dilate, the stark blueness of it seeming to glow amongst the darkness, like piercing through a veil. The lights that flickered in them, playfully like sprites during the spring morning seemed to have dimmed, giving way to something darker, more seductive. I moved closer to him, watching his eyes trace my every move, and I caught the clean scent of his cologne before I whispered, "Meet me out in ten?"

I moved back, and if I wasn't so good at seeing past barriers then his excitement would've escaped me. The subtle way in which he stood, the quirk of his lips. "No problem." I slipped off the barstool, my heels making contact with the sticky floor as I made my way back to the dressing room to gather my belongings. _Shit, this was bad. This was really bad._ It was like a mantra in my head, coalescing with the exhilaration that seemed to power every move. I grabbed the purple dress stuck in my bag beside the slacks and my itchy 'Red Dragon' uniform, that Jeremy would often see me leave in before I came here. Just another evidence of this huge lie that I caught myself in. But I shook my head, seeing Damon's face play before my mind once more. His words that I couldn't stop replaying in my head and _Fuck_. This needs to stop. I took a deep breath, clearing my mind of pests and feelings and remembered 'This is a job. I'm gonna do my job.' After shedding the corset, and slipping on the dress, I slung my bag over a shoulder, opening the back door that led to the outside world.

I stepped out, finding my client was nowhere to be seen. _Of course. _So I walked towards the bench situated outside the building next to the vending machine that never worked, and I pulled a cigarette out of my bag, closing my eyes as the nicotine surged through my veins.

"You ready?" I heard a voice behind me, and I nodded stomping my cigarette out.

"Sorry, had to wrestle the keys from my friend," he said apologetically, before gesturing towards his car.

I smiled. "It's fine."

He walked around, opening the door of the slick black Bentley for me, so starkly out of place. I stepped in, feeling cold leather on the underside of my thighs as I watched him slip into the driver's seat. "What a gentleman," I remarked.

"I try," he said, starting the engine.

It was odd now that the booming music was gone, it was as if gravity had settled heavily in between us now that it wasn't being flung wherever which way. "So Ms. Elena, what's your favorite food?" he suddenly asked, playful eyeing me.

"We're still playing?" I laughed. He was something else. But I thought a bit, scouring my mind for the answer. No one usually cared. Suddenly a flash of my mother asking me to taste the spaghetti sauce, the scalding heat bittersweet as it mixed with the tangy goodness that was Miranda's special recipe. "Italian," I finally answered.

He gave me a surprised look before saying, "Well, you're in luck."

"And how is that?"

"Salvatore. Italian..."

"You're gonna cook for me," It came out more as a statement than a question, really. I was taken aback. Wow, he must be _really, really _desperate if he was willing to cook for a hooker. Or really lonely, and suddenly I wondered about this man. It felt almost unreal, like I've been plucked out of my world and placed into his. In the marvelous, Bentley-infested world of his, and for a moment as the wind swirled through the open window, rustling my hair I imagined what it must be like to belong. To be a part of this, not some skewed and perverse imitation, to actually be here and to matter. _Ms. Elena Gilbert. _Someone not meant to be kept in the dark and in the quiet for shame, but to be showed off in a world that actually cared about who I was and what I did with my life, someone to be adored, someone Jeremy could look up to with awe the way I used to watch him look up to those football players on our tiny TV set or the superheroes in the VHS boxes our parents used to harbor, how his eyes would light up when he sees his sister stepping out of the Bentley, respected. _Elena Gilbert, what's it like to be you? Tell us! The public wants to know! The public cares!_ But, I shook my head. No use torturing myself. _But it was so much fun._

It wasn't too long before we pulled up in front of large gates. He pressed a button and I watched it creak open, wider and wider, revealing a huge white estate. It was like a mirage, the way it seemingly popped out from the darkness that surrounded it, like a shining castle made of white wood and glass windows.

_"_Welcome to my humble abode," he said, before pulling over in front of the house. A man walked out, in small jerky steps, opening my door.

"Thanks," I mumbled, watching Damon come out from the other side leading me in.

"You can leave your bag on the couch." He said, gesturing over to the white cushions atop an elaborate Persian rug. I looked around the place in awe, everything was sleek and simple; a man's house. But as I looked around closely, I see the lavender lace covered lamp atop the impeccably clear glass side table, and the ballerina statuettes situated on the piano next to the huge windows overlooking a garden, suggesting that, that wasn't always how it was.

I heard his voice, breaking my thoughts. "Now come and watch how real men cook."

I laughed, following him into his huge kitchen. "You're really cooking for me."

"You seem surprised." His voice was obscured by the cabinet, as he pulled out pans and approximately four cans of tomato sauce.

"And you're surprised by that?" _I'm a damn hooker, _it was a fact that hung perpetually in the air above us. Why was he doing this? It certainly didn't help me fight off those damn butterflies.

He shrugged his shoulders."Yeah. No one's ever cooked for you before?"

"Not since..." I began. _Not since the accident. _What was it about him? It was like everything just slipped out. He seemed to have some insane power that every other stranger who grated '_What's wrong?' _in my ear would've loved; the power to loosen my tongue and reveal my innermost thoughts to him, as if he was always meant to hear it.

"You don't have to talk about it," he said, seeing my hesitation. Oh, and also, the ability to not push me for it. In my job you meet a lot of people, and though about 99.9% just wanted to get in my pants, you meet those intellectual ones. The ones that seemed to want to probe into my brain with clicking scalpels and knives to pick out the nitty gritty of a dirty stripper and see what makes her tick, so they can bring it back to their studies or whatever doctorate occupation it served them. Somehow those were worse. And then there's Damon. This...this person who I'm practically splayed out in front of yet still had the control to not dive right in, and shoot me now please, because I find that really, really amazing. "Now, do you want to stay looking pretty over there or do you want to help me out?"

"I guess I can.. lend a hand."

"You sure?"

"No, the question is. Are _you _sure?" I said laughing, before making my towards him.

He handed me the wooden spoon he'd brought out from the cabinet, our fingers touching and I felt that warm feeling shoot through me again. I looked up seeing his eyes were trained on me before he practically whispered, "I'm positive." Shit. This was worse than I thought, I'm putty at his feet. _Me_. Emotionally incapacitated Elena Gilbert. That never happened. I was ready to sprint away from him and away from this place before I completely destroyed myself, but then he looked back, his tongue sticking out as he was grating some parmesan. F_uck_ I couldn't stop smiling. Shit. Shit. Shit. This was bad. Calm, yourself Elena. Calm down. "Now, I know I'm stunning. But looking at me won't get this lasagna done." He said with a cocky smile.

I bumped his shoulder "Shut up!"

"Oh, you did not just do that," he said in mock offense. I fought to keep the grin off my face.

"I think I just did, and what are you gonna do about it?"

He drew nearer, until I could practically feel the warmth of his body emanating from him.I caught another whiff of that cologne, making me heady as I challenged him, waiting to see his next move.

"_This!_" And I barely had time to react before I saw his hand from the corner of my eye lift up, smearing chunky tomato sauce all over my cheeks. My mouth was agape_, _feeling the plop of the tomato bits on my chest as I watched him doubled over in laughter in front of me. I huffed, dipping my hand in the bowl I'd been mixing only moments before, and as he came up for breath I wiped it all over him, my fingers making contact with forehead, and nose.

"Hah!" I yelled, as I ran to the other side of the counter. His eyes widened in disbelief, which lasted only a moment before he grinned, grabbing a handful of the parmesan cheese.

"No! No...no don't do it!" I said, in between pants of laughter. I ran away from him, to the white couch. "Don't, or else I'm gonna jump on this." But my pleads went to deaf ears as he stalked, closer and closer, I swiped a bit of the sauce onto my fingers. "I'm gonna do it."

There was a pause; brown eyes meeting blue, each narrowed, calling each other's bluff.

"Then do it," He finally teased. I gave him one last look before he ran towards me, and I plopped down on the couch squeaking in fear as he jumped, his legs on either side of me, and I shut my eyes, feeling the peppering of the parmesan land all over my face and chest, the couch bouncing from our laughter. I glanced up, as the laughter was slowly dying on his lips. I relished the moment and realized that I really haven't had this much fun in years. So I memorized it, tucked it inside for future use; the way his breath came out in little pants, his heady scent of cologne intermixed with parmesan and tangy tomato sauce, and the warmth of his body over me, the couch dipping on either side of my head where his hands were, and the way his eyes darkened to a deeper blue the longer he looked at me. And as it got quiet, I suddenly became starkly aware of _him_. That gravity settling down around us once more. I looked down to watch his chest covered by the thin layer of his dress shirt moving up and down with every breath, the urge to run my hands all over it all consuming, until I finally gave in. I lifted my hands up to his lower belly, feeling it twitch, beneath the smooth material. I looked up at him from under my lashes, biting my lip as my hands continued to creep up, that pure exhilaration pumping through my veins as my fingers glided over every dip of hard muscle, eventually landing on his tie. He looked at me, and I don't know how the hell I could've ever gone through life without seeing anyone looking at me like that, like...like I was _loved _for once. And I pulled him down, down, down, down until his lips hovered over mine.

"Are you sure?" he whispered. But I was having none of it as I craned my head up to close the gap. And when our lips met, it was like two galaxies colliding at once. My eyes fluttered close, he tasted like scotch and italian and heaven, and please dear God, I never wanted this moment to end. I flipped us over, every movement becoming more feverish than the last, as I pulled on his shirt. I rose up to take a breath, feeling his hands on my thighs, slipping the material off of me. I looked down, the fire burning behind those eyes drawing me in and I don't think I've ever, _ever _met a human being as beautiful as Damon Salvatore in that moment. He should be a greek painting, plastered on the walls of every ancient city there ever was, I imagined the stroke of my paint brush as I attempted to capture that glean on his lips as it was parted just so. I leaned down, giving it a peck tasting the tomato sauce, and I smiled at him with abandon as I felt the rough pads of his fingers ghost over my cheek pulling my hair to one side.

"God, Katherine, you're beautiful," he breathed.

_Ouch. _

I froze.

_That wasn't supposed to hurt that much. _

I could feel his whole body stiffening from under me at his mistake. And suddenly it was like my chest was caving in, I could practically see the edges of my fantasy crackling, shattering before my eyes into a million pieces. I see the shards of it, in the sorry way he looked at me. The apology of an actor who messed up on stage, the embarrassment, and I fought the urge to backtrack. I fought the urge to grab my dress from the floor, and storm out with a million angry profanities spewing from me, because I couldn't. I had no right. Hell, this wasn't even the first time this happened, but I guess...somehow, somewhere I thought he was different. But I guess every look, every touch wasn't him touching _me_, it was for her. It was all for her. I could already feel the disappointment settling heavily in my stomach, the butterflies trying to flap through it, until they shrank and died. I guess I needed the harsh reminder. Hope was always, always such a terrible companion. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, handing you something precious to lose; the hope that maybe somewhere under all of this he felt something, and wow I'm really, really, just fucking stupid, aren't I? I closed my eyes, taking in a shaky breath, pretending nothing has changed when in fact everything has. The secret was out, but I nuzzled his neck just the same the magic of the evening gone, like the moment the gym lights open at the end of a school dance.

"Elena," he began. His words slipped past my ears, over me, away from me, as I went through the motions. "Elena stop," he said a little more insistently, his hands gently nudging my shoulders.

"Shut up, Damon," was all I said, surrendering to my senses. "Just feel." And he did, as his hand slipped from my shoulders and into my hair, his groan rumbling in his chest as I licked the shell of his ear.

All men only ever wanted one thing anyway, these creatures incapable of any real affection, and I was a fool to think otherwise.

* * *

**Damon POV**

I sat up from the floor, feeling that Persian rug scratching my elbow as I watched her lithe body bend to grab her dress pooled next to the tainted couch. I opened my mouth, but what could I say? What could I possibly say to her? _Sorry, I called you Katherine, you know my dead wife? The one who committed suicide on Wickery Bridge, my bad. Oops. _I'm an asshole, a big fucking asshole and it was probably hurting me as much as her. She thought I couldn't see it. She thought I couldn't see the smile slip off her lips, her eyes dulling down, the slight furrow in her brow like a barrier between her and me and everything else. But I did, and I just wanted to get swallowed into the ground, like quicksand. I opened my mouth again, my father's voice booming in my ear, '_Stop running away. This is all you do, you run away and you hide like a little coward. One of these days you're gonna need to face your battles like a fucking man.' _

"Elena," I said, but she simply grabbed her bag, slinging it over a shoulder. "Elena."

"What?" she finally asked, turning to face me.

"I'm sorry."

She let out a humorless laugh, the bitter laugh of someone who's been let down one too many times. "No need, Damon. I was here for one purpose, and I think I did my job," she said. I bet it was supposed to be a joke of some sort, but it got convoluted on it's way out of her mouth and it made me feel even more of an asshole.

"Stay with me," I said. I needed to make it up to her, somehow to reverse time.

"Not tonight, I'm afraid." I could see the walls up, practically feel it in her words.

"I don't mean tonight," I sat up, an idea forming in my head.

She gave me a confused look. "What are you talking about, Damon?"

"Let me help you, Elena," I began. "You say...you say that everyone's looking for an escape. Let me be yours."

"You don't know what your talking about," she said almost solemnly, her eyes downcast, reminding me of a child.

"I do," he sat up straighter. "I like you, Elena-"

"Are you sure you don't mean, Katherine?" I saw a flash of hurt in her eyes, before she sighed her shoulders slumped. "Just stop, Damon. There's no salvation for people like me. So stop trying."

"Elena-"

"My price is $350," she said cutting me off.

"It's in my wallet." I said dejectedly, watching as she fumbled in my pants pocket strewn over the cough.

"Thanks," she said, slipping the cash in her bag without as much as a backward glance.

* * *

The morning offered no comfort, the memory of her silk brown hair between my fingers the first thing that formed in my mind as I watched the dust playing in the soft white light, seeping through my venetian blinds. I still felt her lips over mine, the cherry flavor of her lipstick on my tongue. And the guilt, ah the guilt of breaking something so beautiful.

It plagued me, like gum stuck in the back of your throat, so much so that I barely noticed Alaric standing by my desk as I walked into my office, a coffee mug in hand.

"Aaahh there's my main, man. How was your night with _the exotic, the beee-yoootiful Constantinovaaa!_" Alaric said laughing, patting me on the shoulder as I walked past him to my desk. "She live up to the hype?"

"That and beyond, my friend."

"Nice!" he said. "But then why do you look as if someone just shot your dog down?" He asked, sitting back into the seat.

"Well, she was amazing man."

"And...?"

"And, she left."

"Well that is what they do." He paused seeing the expression on my face, "What happened?"

"She was perfect."

"You said that already."

"You don't understand. She was funny, and deep, and intelligent, and sexy and...I...I called her Katherine."

Alaric gave me a sad look, "Oh...well, don't beat yourself up over it. It happens. Probably happens to _her _all the time, you know. Guys calling her different names."

"Yeah but she's..."

"...still there. If you like her so much why don't you give her another visit. She has her regulars."

"That's the thing."

"What?"

"I hate having to see her do that. She's just...more than that place."

"Holy shit, she must've dropped something in your drink. You've known her what? Three hours? You're clearly out of one-night-stand practice."

"I don't know."

"What? What is it?"

"Haven't you ever felt that way about anyone? Where you can have a conversation with them for five minutes, but it's like you've known them forever. That instant click, where everything just falls into place."

Alaric remained quiet. "Stop it man. You're killing my coffee buzz."

"You have then," I looked up at him.

"Do you remember Jenna?," he began slowly. As if every word brought back a taste of a time he'd rather not remember. A brief flash of the night we met came into the forefront, that was the name he kept mumbling while he was wasted and practically bubbling at the mouth at Steven Stevenson's frat party. "I think so."

"I never told you this," he began again. "Her name was Jenna Sommers. And man, oh man. She was my soulmate, I tell ya. From the first moment I saw her, _I knew _she was the one. And it was exactly like you said. Everything just seemed to click in to place."

"What happened?"

"She was engaged." He let out a huff. "The biggest regret of my life, the biggest 'what if' was not fighting for her. And you don't know how much that tears at you every day, man. She's probably out there in suburbia somewhere kissing the wrong guy goodmorning, when it could've been me." He looked back up, shrugging the memory away. "You know what, I say go after Constantinova, damn that's a mouthful, but uh yeah. But you have to be doing it for the right reasons. What are your reasons?"

"I want to know her. I want to save her." He was still looking at me, expecting more. "Look...before Katherine died, it was obvious she needed help. But I, I just stood by and I didn't do anything... and I just can't stand by _anyone _anymore, and watch brilliant people turn themselves to dust."

"So this is more of a Katherine-thing," he sighed. "Damon, you shouldn't use this girl to get closure with what happened to Katherine. They're different people. I just don't see this ending well, feelings and all that jazz."

"I'm not." I said. "I'm not. This is..." I finally decided, "This is an Elena-thing. She's fucking amazing with or without me in the picture, and I think if she were given a chance, she could be something great. She just needs a chance."

"Who's Elena again?"

"She's Elena," I put my head in my hands.

"You know you are the craziest motherfucker I've ever met," he said."But, if your goal really is just to help her and this _isn't _a Katherine thing, then I suggest you keep your feelings in check. Or I could see this getting _really, really _messy. Not just for you, but bringing a hooker in, it's bound to get out. _Bad Press."_

I lifted my head, making up my mind, "I'll keep it strictly business. I'm gonna help her out." I'm going back to see her. And this time she can't say no.

* * *

**Author's (long) Note: **

Just wanted to say **thank you** to everyone who reviewed! It truly helped motivate me to continue for you guys haha.  
So please keep on reviewing and I shall try to keep on writing as well. Tell me what you think, and be brutally honest. Constructive criticism is very welcomed. More reviews = faster updates ;)  
_Tvdfanficfan _asked though, 'Is Katherine nice in this story?'

and tbh she can't really be characterized as nice or mean. When she was alive she acted out and was self-destructive and vindictive and all that (the maids sure hated her) but only due to her own personal reasons which may or may not be uncovered later on. :)

Make sure to follow 'Pimpdaddyklaus' on tumblr (a URL inspired by this fic x)) haha for updates on the story  
Lastly (if anyone's still reading by this point) if you guys wanna check out a bigger version of the image thingy just copy and paste **'/797erq7' **at the end of _tiny url dot com_. -minus the spaces**  
**and also a photoset I made for the first chap: **'/7bku7k2'**

anddd I'm gonna shut up now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Damon's POV**

I wove in and out of the roads, watching as the clean streets and the bustling suited men who traveled by sidewalk gave way to something more sinister. Even the pavements seemed to crack beneath the heat the further down I got; the buildings more dusty, old, less innovative. But, I drove on, looking at the green blinking light on my dashboard that read 5:02. I still have about twenty-five minutes of my lunch break left. I kept going until the familiar sign crept into view, _Mikaelson's_ on the dusty, faded red roof tiles, always looking as if they were ready to fall with the next earth quake. It was odd, stepping out of my car, the aura of magic accompanying the neon signs simply gone, _poof_ like waking up from a dream. I looked at the dust settling onto my dress shoes as I entered the familiar shop, the tell-tale chime of the bell above the door signaling my entry. I made my way to the counter, expecting the pretty blonde to be standing there erect, welcoming, but to my surprise there was a man instead, his plastic chair tipped backward, a hand on some paperback, chewing on a toothpick. He had light brown hair, and mischievous features. Maybe he didn't even mean to be mischievous, just the sharp way his thick eyebrows bent down and the edges of his eyes crinkled on the sides.

I coughed. He glanced up, laying his book down gingerly on the counter top before glancing back up at me.

"Hello, sir how may I help you?" I watched the toothpick move every which way with every word.

"Uhm..." I pulled out the red card that Alaric had brought. Feeling a bit awkward as I silently handed it over. He glanced down at it, before looking back up at me. My collar was beginning to get itchy with his deliberate slowness. The whirring of the small fan situated on the counter, seemed to take over the room as I watched his bowed head staring at the card. "So...can I come in?"

"Is this a joke?" he finally asked, taking the toothpick from his mouth. I looked around the store to make sure it was the same one Alaric and I had gone to last night. I saw the cheap purple shampoo bottles, the yellow tiled ceiling.

"Yes. This is the Mikaelson's, right?"

"That's correct," he said in that same british accent the girl had spoken in.

"And...and this card says Mikaelson's House of Splendors." He continued staring at me, like I was a crazed child trying to make their parents believe they're imaginary friend was real. "I was here last night!"

"Well...I don't know what you're talking about," he leaned back into his chair, grabbing the book, faced down on the counter. "If you'd like, my sister Rebekah usually takes over the night shifts. You can come by later and maybe..."

"Look," I said, fighting the urge to pry the faded copy from his fingers and toss it across the room. "I'm pretty damn sure this is the place. And I just need to talk to Elena."At this he looked up, his thick eyebrows seeming to lift with interest. "Constantinova?" I continued.

He asked for my ID, which I shoved into his hands. "Oh. Mr. Damon Salvatore! I'm sorry, I didn't know who I was talking to." He gave me a wide smile, as if that would somehow erase his earlier demeanor. "My apologies. Kol Mikaelson." We shook hands, as he stood up. "You would _not_ imagine how many cops pose undercover and try to find this place. Some men just can't keep their yappers shut. You know what I mean? But anyways, I wasn't kidding we _are _closed. The nightlife doesn't open til about 7pm, but you're welcome to talk to my brother."

"Naw, it's fine. If Elena isn't here then..." I said turning to leave.

"Well what are your intentions? Most business proceedings with our women goes through him." Not last nights, I thought. "You could pre-order, if that's what you want."

"What do you mean?" I turned back.

"Well, we like to keep a tight leash, and other men usually do as well. They like to place dibs on their favorites, and Constantinova is popular. I say you place your dibs, or you might not be able to get a chance to talk to her at all." If I ever thought that it _kinda,_ _maybe_ was a good idea to _probably_ take Elena from here, now I was possessed with the urgent need to do so. No one should be distributed to whoever 'placed their dibs' first. It made me feel sick to my stomach. I shuddered.

So this is ironic.

"Okay, I'll talk to your brother."

"Come with me." He led me to one of the doors leading up to the one at the end of the hallway. He knocked twice before saying, "Mr. Salvatore's here to talk to you!"

I hear a shuffling before the door swung open, revealing a lean, white male, with curled tufts of hair splayed onto his forehead. Confusion seemed to mar his features before he quickly recovered. "Oh, hello Mr. Damon Salvatore am I right?"

I nodded, as Kol returned to his post.

"How do you know me?" I asked.

"Let's just say we like to keep tabs on the men who come and go. Security purposes," he said before sitting down at the chair on the other side of the desk. "Please, take a seat. How may I help you, Mr. Salvatore?"

"There's this girl, Constantinova? I was with her last night," I began.

"Mhm." He looked very much concerned and serious, but there was something in it that I didn't quite trust, a hungry gleam in his eyes. He stared at me, urging me to continue.

"And I'd like to...reserve her?" I feel disgusting just saying those words. I wanted to flush my mouth out and apologize profusely to every woman I've ever met. And that's a big deal coming from _me_.

But he just nodded. "Well that doesn't come free. She's very sought after, and from my understanding she's already reserved by someone who's willing to offer a very handsome amount."

"I'll top it." I said. "No matter how much. But there's just one more thing."

"And that is...?"

"I don't want her for just one night."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to buy her out," I said, trying not to cringe.

I watched him stare at me, before chuckling. "That's simply not possible Mr. Salvatore. I'm willing to give you her for a week, given you pay the week in advance."

"A week?"

"Yes."

"How about two?"

"Are you bargaining with me?"

"Two weeks. Take it or leave it." I watched his eyes challenging me, before he eased into his chair.

"Alright Mr. Salvatore, you have a deal, but she doesn't come cheap."

* * *

**Elena POV**

I couldn't get him out of my mind. I was damn near close to banging my head on the stucco dressing room wall, after probably the fifteenth time fumbling against the zipper of the sequined dress Klaus had chosen for me.

"Elena, are you alright?" I heard Caroline's voice over my shoulder, I could practically imagine her face contorted in worry, but I didn't want to turn around to see. Somehow, it's always worse when people acknowledge your pain, it makes it more real in a way. And I couldn't swallow another _I'm so sorry_, I've had enough of those to last three lifetimes. So I swallowed my feelings, down, down where no one can ever find them.

"Yeah, Care," I said, trying to sound as sincere as I possibly can. "I'm fine."

"Your fine my ass!" she said. Leave it to Caroline and her uncanny ability to see through any lie. "Tell me what's going on. Is it Klaus?" I heard her footsteps drawing nearer behind me.

"No," I said, turning around with a smile (at least I hoped it looked like a smile). "Nothing's wrong."

"Talk to me, 'Lena."

"There's nothing to talk about, I told you I'm good," I said, before sitting down on one of the bolted benches, tugging stockings up over a foot.

"Is it Jeremy?"

"Caroline," I gave her a warning look. She knew,_ she knew_ there is no Jeremy as soon as I entered those doors. There was no Elena.

"Elena."I sighed. "I know it's hard, but you're looking at your best friend, and I care about you okay? So please tell me." I shared a look with her, a war being fought inside my head. I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to talk about anything. It always felt as if there was a dam inside me, keeping the ocean of turmoil or whatever what else inside, and whenever I tried to get it past, it just always ends up wrong. I can never open a leak without the whole thing cracking, and at this point I can't afford to drown.

But, this was Caroline. And if I was willing to let a dribble out just to keep it off my chest, it would be to her. "It was a client," I sighed. God, I hate talking, I felt the dam bowing painfully in my chest with every word.

"What?" she looked alarmed. We all knew the horror stories, and I bet a slew of them was running through her pretty blonde head right now; a client beating me, and other convoluted things I'd rather really not think about. I saw her eyes running over my body, checking for any abnormalities.

"It's not...bad," I began, and I see her shoulders lowering in relief.

"Then what?"

"I can't stop thinking about him, Care."

She remained quiet, and I ventured to watch her reaction; somehow I think I liked her expression better earlier than this. The pity was evident in her eyes, the same thought going through her head that's been going through mine ever since I woke up this morning, since Jeremy left for school, since I biked here from Astella's, it'd been like a broken record in my head _It was hopeless, and you're only going to kill yourself pining_. _So you should just stop. Stop now, before it gets even worse. Before the option to stop is simply not there anymore. _

"Elena..." she began.

"I know. You don't have to tell me how stupid I am, or how the hell did I get myself into this, of how impossible it is, I know that already and -"

"Stop!"

"It was stupid anyway. He called me by someone else's name."

Her features seemed to droop down even lower if that were even possible. I could practically hear the '_I'm so sorry_' in her thoughts, I heard it through her eyes as her arms slipped over my shoulders.

"There will be other men out there, Elena. Trust me. Someone who will love us for who we are and we'll meet him and it'll be magical and..."

"Yeah," I said. "Probably."

"Girls!" we turned our head to see Vicky standing at the door, hip cocked. "If you guys are done chitchatting then maybe we could get started with the number?"

Caroline rolled her eyes at me. "Yeah Vick. We'll be out." Her hands slipped off, as we heard Vicky's footsteps getting further and further.

"Just hang in there, kay? I mean, I fall in love with my clients all the time. I mean you know Kol and I... But we just have to remember to stay professional, and not let that feeling cloud reality." Reality that none of them could ever love us. "I just can't believe it," she murmured to herself.

"What do you mean?" I asked, gripping my stockings once more.

"You, of all the girls here would be the last I'd expect to...you know...fall in love. Not that I think you're like a machine or anything but like I mean, you know? You're just not the type," she rambled.

"I'm not in love," I affirmed.

"Well...you know what I mean." But, I understood what she was saying. She knew me better than anyone else, and she knew just how_ feeling_ never really registered to me. I didn't understand it, I never did. I didn't get how people would actually sacrifice themselves for another _in the name of love _(ew), it just didn't make sense. It was foolish and stupid. This isn't me, I'm not like this, I don't do this, but the moment I'd remember those blue eyes and the way his voice would swim over me, it was like I_ completely _understood for once in my life. I sighed. He called me Katherine. To him, I wasn't but a substitute to whoever woman she'd been to him, and it would do me a world of good to remember that. "I'll see you outside?" I murmured, seeing as she was finally ready. "Don't worry I'll be out soon."

As if on cue, I saw Vicky at the doorway once again.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Caroline said, before walking towards the door, giving me a last lingering look before the click of her heels echoed in the hallway. _I'm so sorry._

"I'll be out, Vick," I said, realizing that she was still standing there.

But much to my annoyance, she entered the dressing room, closing the door behind her.

"Klaus pick that out for you?" she said, gesturing to my outfit.

"Yes, Vicky," I rolled my eyes, tugging the other side of my stockings up. I saw her from the corner of my eye, fingering the hangers on the clothes rack.

"Huh," she mused. "He picked that out for you, again," she said. I didn't know whether she was talking to me or herself. But all of a sudden, it was as if something in her demeanor snapped, as she turned squarely on me."You know, Elena. You might _think _that you can take my place, but you don't even know the half of it," she said. I rose up slowly.

_Really, Vick? Really? Right now? _I was _not _in the mood. "I don't have time for this." Of course, she was here for a reason, and no reason satisfied her more than to bite my ass.

"There are a lot of things around here that _you _don't even know. Miss Perfect." She'd stepped closer to me, blocking my way to the door.

"Are you drunk?" I asked, seeing the slur in her step, the smell of alcohol becoming evident the closer she was. "We have a number in fifteen minutes, and you're drunk?"

"He doesn't even touch me anymore, you know that?" she spat. "The bastard. He doesn't touch _anyone _anymore. He only asks for _you_, now why is that? _Constantinova_," she said in a poorly imitated accent.

"Who? Klaus?"

"Yes! Elena! Klaus! How do you not understand?"

I shook my head, making my way around her towards the door. "Whatever problem you have, take it up with him."

"Just tell me, Elena. What the hell is it you're doing? Why does he want _you_? What do you have that I don't? I've been here for years, and here you are strutting in like Ms. Goody-goody and suddenly you're in the front line numbers in my spot, and in my fucking way all the time."

"We have a number, Vick. Get to the point."

She sighed, looking up at the ceiling whatever drunken fire that had possessed her to even face me, giving way to something else. It was odd looking at her, it seemed as if she were on the edge of some precipice, her scowl looked wrong on her face. And for a split second I saw her for what she was, an insecure, neurotic mess, a little girl deprived. But suddenly her features sharpened, and all traces of whatever vulnerability disappeared with her sneer. "Nothing. I just cannot wait to see you after Klaus is done with you. You might think you have him all pegged, but you don't even know the half of it."

I shook my head. "What are you talking about again?"

"You think you landing here was an accident? That he actually saw something special in _you_?" a harsh, raspy sound came out of her throat, as she barked out in laughter. I gave her an odd look. "Don't feel so special, even if he does treat you as his little pet. He has plans for you, that much _I _know." She traced a sequined strap between hot pink fingernails before leaving me to myself.

What the hell just happened?

* * *

Vicky's words echoed in my mind, throughout the number. _You think you landing here was an accident. _What did she mean? I shook my head, trying to keep the smile on my face as my eyes squinted at the crowd. How I missed the bliss of not thinking so much, but then again such a time never _really _existed. I let my eyes rest on the bustling crowd of men, _important men_.

I didn't see him at first.

The broad shoulders, outlined by the neon pink flamingo sign hanging by the bar. I could see the messy hair atop his head, _could it be?_ I sashayed forward, dipping _just_ low enough for the ginger in the blue tank to drop a dollar into my top, as I glanced up. This seemed to happen to me a lot since last night, every voice seemed to mimic his, anyone with blue eyes would bring me right back to him.

God, this is bad. I wish I could just take a scalpel and cut the feeling from my chest, then reach in and toss it somewhere far, far, away from me. It's better when everything's monotone, neither happy, neither sad, just nothing.

But then there he is (_right?_), and what I felt was far from the blissful nothingness that I was so accustomed to. My heart skipped a beat, rejoiced but unfortunately my excitement got the better of me and I skipped a step. The booming music seemed to taunt me, the perspiration sticking to my skin before I made my way back to the pole, drawing my thoughts back. Thank God I'm in the middle.

"What happened 'Lena?" Caroline had asked, a hand on my shoulder.

"I...I thought I saw him."

"The dude?"

"Yeah. By the bar." I looked back at the figure, watching with trepidation as he left his spot, walking closer and closer. I didn't know whether I should run back into the dressing room or stalk towards him.

"Is that him?"

I kept looking, however as the man inched closer a sliver of the spotlight caught his eyes, revealing a color that was definitely _not_ my azure blue.

"No. no...nevermind," I said, feeling the disappointment and relief wash over me.

"Elena."

"I know," I felt Caroline's hand slip off my shoulder. "Keep it professional."

"Elena, love." We turned, seeing Klaus slink closer to us. "Will you come to my office? There's a very, very important discussion we need to have."

I nodded, before Caroline squeezed me. "Just don't think about him, okay?"

"I'm over him already," I smirked. Before leaving her side to join Klaus. _I'm over him already._

Once I stepped into his office, he closed the door behind me, and sat back into his office chair which creaked with his weight.

"You didn't come this morning. You know after every client, you go straight here."

"I was tired," I replied.

"With the Salvatore." I tried to ignore the automatic excitement at the mention of him. "Well never mind that, hon we'll have time later. But for now, he seemed to be very pleased with you."

"What do you mean?"

"He's paying in advance, for two weeks."

"What?"

"You heard me."

My insides reeled, the room seemed to spin, as I was torn between feeling utter joy and complete disbelief.

"Can he even do that? I have...I have other customers Klaus."

"And they'll still be there and willing to pay even more once you're far off unattainable."

"I...I can't." I fucking can't.

"Oh but you are, Elena. and more."

"What do you mean?" I looked up, seeing a different expression on his face than I've ever seen before.

"I'm done playing, Elena. Like I told you before. Mr. Salvatore is a very important client. And he has a weakness for pretty faces like yours. And you know Elena..." He looked up, his eyes locking onto mine, "It's our job to prey on the weak." I gave him an odd look. "So," he stood up. "Make him fall for you. You know singing birds and all of that and convince him to show you their vervain vaults. Figure out how it's made, the secret that makes the company boom."

I was speechless. "You want me to do _what_?"

"I want you to make him happy, that is all. Gain his trust."

"And what if I don't?"

"Well, you wouldn't want poor little Jeremy to know all the nasty things his sister's been doing behind his back now do you?"

"You're insane, Klaus!" My heart was beating faster, now, as I shot up, making my way to the door. My mind was reeling.

"I'll give you a $1000 in advance. That should be enough for your apartment right? Plus extra for your brother. Maybe you'd even be able to pay for those classes he's taking. Are you really willing to risk everything you've built?" Shit, shit, shit, shit. I could almost see Jeremy's excitement if I told him he could go to homecoming, and sign up for his AP classes, and the football games and...

I took a breath, letting my hand slip off the doorknob. "What do I have to do?"

"You're going to be staying with him for two weeks, I believe, for his entertainment. Consider it a vacation."

"You know I can't do that. What am I supposed to tell Jeremy?"

"Not my problem."

"You know this isn't gonna work right?" I said, with a humorless chuckle. "He wouldn't fall for me."

"Let's not talk negative, now. Like I say, he has a weakness for faces like yours. Make it happen."

"And what would you gain from this?" I asked, turning my head to see the smirk of triumph on his face.

"Now don't you worry your pretty little mind. Just finish the job. Honestly, Elena you've done worse. Don't tell me you actually care for him. I thought you were stronger than _that_," He taunted.

"Don't be ridiculous," I refused to look him in the eyes.

"Just as I thought," He said, and I could see that his mind was already out of the topic at hand. "He'll be picking you up at Astella's once you get off. Oh, and don't think I won't be checking in."

"You told him where I worked? We had a deal Klaus. My day job, and this are completely separate. None of my clients get to know _Elena_."

"He seemed to know_ Elena_ just fine. And we had a deal that you were gonna do exactly as I say, and I give you money and I keep my mouth shut." I could feel the burning behind his eyes.

"Fuck you," I sighed, opening the door.

"Did you say something dear?"

"Nope," I replied over my shoulder before slipping out.

* * *

The rest of the night came and went in a blur, and it all seemed to be a huge count down leading up to _this_, as I stood in front of my cashier.

"_Jeremy, I'm gonna be gone for two weeks, okay?"_

"_What?" I watched the disbelief in his eyes, as his fork paused over the stale, microwaved potatoes. _

"_Klaus is taking me out, with his family. They're vacationing up north, and he wanted me to meet his parents," I lied through my teeth. "He's picking me up after work and we're going straight there. Mrs. Flowers is gonna be checking on you, and I bought like twenty packs of Lean Pockets and I left you about two-fifty -"_

"_Are you fucking serious! Two weeks?" I watched his nose flare, his eyes hardening. I flinched. _

"_Jeremy..."_

"_Are you gonna come back?" He'd said into his peas._

"_Of course! I'm gonna come back, Jer," I said. "Why would you even think-"_

"_Because no one _ever _comes back." He'd stormed off, the chair hitting the wooden table with a thud, as he left me alone with his unfinished dinner.  
_

* * *

"Elena! Can you even speak English?" I shook my head, the grating voice of the one and only Madam Astella next to me, wisps of gray hair falling onto a fat wrinkle on her forehead, her face reminding me of an angry pug.

"Yes," I replied, a smile pasted on my lips. Though, I really would not want anything more than to strangle her thick neck between my hands. "I can."

"Then why aren't you in the kitchen? Didn't Tina tell you to make some coolers?"

"No, Ma'm. She didn't." I watched Tina, Astella's beefy daughter serving the customers, before making her way back towards us.

"Tin. You didn't tell Elena to make coolers?"

"I did," she said, giving me a look.

"Well, you know how with Elena you have to say things twice. She's a bit on the slow side."

Tina rolled her eyes, "Elena get the coolers." She said, before walking back to the kitchen.

"What are you doing around standing here for!" Astella yelled, practically pushing me off my place in the counter. "God, you just cannot count on good help these days," I heard her mumble.

I walked into the storage room, the heat of the ice maker contributing to the perspiration on my face. I looked at my reflection on the broken mirror sticking on the wall trying to get my anger to simmer down. I saw the bags under my eyes, evidence of my tossing and turning last night. It's like everything in the day led up to this pivotal moment, and I was just holding on until that moment came when he would stride into that door, and see me as this. What would he think? Would he completely call off the whole two-week arrangement? This time he wouldn't be meeting Constantinova, and he liked her. Now, he'll be seeing Elena, pure unadulterated Elena in her natural environment. And what if he didn't like that? The mask of lipstick and mascara is no longer there to hide under. I feel almost naked, with the rough blue shirt that said 'Astella's' on the front, hardly form-fitting. Gosh, how I wanted to kill Klaus for having him come here. _Get him to fall in love with you, get him to trust you_. Those words have been echoing in my mind ever since I woke up, making my head throb. What did Klaus want? Why was he making me do this? Did I even want to do this? Sure, I was angry. But, it wasn't like he meant his slip. It wasn't like I had the right to be angry. I sighed, looking at the watch on my left wrist. "2:32." Almost done, I took a deep breath, storing the thoughts away until later lest Ma'm Astella start screeching at me again. I stepped out back to the kitchen. Coolers it is.

* * *

**Damon's POV**

I'd been sitting in the car for almost ten minutes. Ten whole minutes, drawn out into what felt like years. I watched her come out of a corner and into, what I'd imagine was an 'Employees Only' area. She was smiling, but I could tell that it wasn't real. I know what her smiles looked like, and that grimace wasn't it. I imagined bursting in, picking her up bridal style and rescuing her from here. It just boggled my mind why she was wasting her brilliance. I glanced at the clock 2:38.

22 more minutes to go. You know what, screw this. What the hell am I doing? If I want to get her out of here, then I fucking will. So I strode out of my car and walked into the little shop, the warm smell of baking bread attacking my nostrils. I looked around, not seeing her in sight. So I walked up to the cash register, where a short, dowdy woman around mid fifty's stood punching numbers. She glanced up, before doing a double-take, a smile forming on her face which may have looked sweet on someone else, but just seemed overly fake on her features.

"Uhm. Uh Hello sir, how can I help you?" she asked, that toothy smile still in place. A wrinkled hand coming up to absentmindedly push a limp gray hair.

"Is...Elena here?"

I saw the smile waver, a ghost of the wrinkles slowly dipping down before she said, "Oh. Uh. Well she's working, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with? We have a wide array of pies and macaroons that have just been delivered. I can show them around..."

"No, sorry. That's not necessary. I just came here for Elena."

"Well, then I'm sorry I can't help you there," she said a little more firmly, I could see how hard the smile was trying to stay up frayed at the edges. "But maybe you can come-"

"Damon?" I turned around, seeing her standing with two colorful drinks in hand, hair pulled up in a messy bun.

Damn it. She looked more beautiful than ever. And I finally decided that I liked seeing her like this a lot better than when she's in her elaborate costumes. There was something so inherently natural about it; pure. _'Remember Damon, keep your feelings in check.' _I could hear Alaric's warning. This was about _her_.

"Elena," I walked up to her. "Let's go."

She looked unsure, glancing behind me. "I won't get off til around thirty minutes, I still have to count the money in my register," she said almost sheepishly. It was truly a marvel to think that the sultry woman in the sinfully red corset was the same cute, hesitant cashier that stood before me right now.

I looked from her to the woman behind the counter, before walking back. "I'm gonna buy all your pies, if you let Elena leave early today."

The woman looked at me, mouth opening and closing before stuttering, "Uhm.. a-alright. Did you...want 'em delivered or...?"

"Box 'em and send them to Salvatec Pharmaceuticals," I grinned.

She nodded, before looking past me. "Elena, darling! Will you please count the pies?"

"No. That won't be necessary. Here's $700, you can keep the extra," I said signing a check. I looked up to see Elena's stunned face, along with a few of the customer's who've begun to take interest at our transaction.

I caught whispers from the people nearest me, '_Isn't that...?' _

I simply turned back to the dowdy woman behind the register, "We good?"

She nodded fervently, before I ran to take the drinks from Elena's hands to put them on the counter in front of her. I then walked back, tucking a lock of brown hair that had fallen out of her bun. Was it so much of a sin to kiss her right now? It was an overwhelming urge. It seemed as if there was no other viable option. But instead, I pulled my hand back. "You ready, now?"

She bit her lip, trying to hide the smile I knew was fighting to grace her face. "Yeah...uhm..." she shook her head. "Yeah...let me just get my stuff. I'll meet you out." I nodded, walking back to my car.

Pretty sure that was alot better than picking her up bridal style.

* * *

**Elena POV**

I felt the heat of everyone's eyes looking at me as soon as the air rushed out the door. I stepped backwards, to my locker.

"What'd you feed _him_?" I heard Tina behind me. "No way he actually-"

I shut my locker in her face, pulling out my small suitcase, having had enough of it I blurted, "My vagina," she merely stared, mouth parted in shock. "That's what I fed him."

I fought to urge to laugh as I left them all, the glass door swinging behind me. I saw him standing next to a black porsche.

"Did I do good?" he asked, with that cheeky grin that had the ability to melt any woman's heart. I fought it with everything I had, because there's no way I was gonna let him slip past my walls a second time.

I simply nodded without saying a word, climbing into the passenger seat.

"What's wrong?" he asked me, concern all over his features, and ughhhhhhhh he was killing me, he _really_ was. How could he not see that? How easy it was to imagine that he actually cared, how easy I'm letting him break my heart.

"Why are you doing this?" I finally asked him.

"What do you mean? You didn't want to get off work?"

"No!" I said in exasperation. "This. All of this. You renting me out for two weeks? From Klaus? What the hell? Honestly, Damon if you feel bad about calling me Katherine I forgive you. All is forgiven, erased. Nada. Everyone does it all the time, you don't need to go through all of this to prove yourself and -"

"Stop," he said, taking my hands into his. And I suddenly remembered how those rough pads felt when they were over my - stop. Elena. Stop. "I'm doing this because I want to do this. I told you. I like you, alright? And I would love to be _your _escape, even if for just a couple weeks."

He let go of my hands, and I quickly realized how much I missed the feeling. I stared at the windshield, trying to get some control on my rapidly beating heartbeat. I felt as if I was on the edge of some cliff, fingernails grasping onto some rock jutting out, fighting my hardest not to fall. I took a deep breath, trying to pour water onto the embers of hope he'd always seemed to erupt within me, along with a horde of fantasies about him saving me from this hell that I've dug myself into. It was just so easy to let my mind wander. To _believe _that he might actually care.

_God, Katherine, you're beautiful_

Just remembering it brought back that pang, like someone slid a knife into the pit of my stomach, and twisted it. I won't be as stupid the second time. There was no way in hell I was getting hurt again. It's the last thing that I need. So it's best to squash this all now. What fool would risk their name and their money and everything for someone like me?

He just wants a quick fuck, that's all. Someone who's readily available. His own personal entertainment, like every sick bastard who's ever grunted on top of me. _I like you,_ my ass. I can't believe I let myself believe it for a second. It's just royally fucked up that he's actually trying to make me believe that he cared about what happened to me. I felt anger bubbling inside me. Did he think this was some kind of game? I felt my resolve strengthening as he turned on the engine, the soft purr like background music to my thoughts and I couldn't help but remember Klaus's words. _Make him love you_. _Find what's in the vault. _Yes. I was not about to lose everything I had, for him. I looked at the way his messy black hair hung over his eye, and I tried to forget whatever heroic deed he'd done earlier. I tried to ignore the flapping butterflies and my desperate wish to amend it. This was all a ruse,_ it had to be_. He's a billionaire, what's a couple of bucks to win over a hooker to him?

He wanted to play this game?

Fuck it.

Game on.  
Let's see who ends up playing with who by the end of the night.

* * *

**Author's note: **Thank you guys for reading! :) And sorry for the wait, I had a rough couple of weeks. :/  
Sorry if it's a bit boring though, I just needed to get a lot of the backdrop in, before the real story gets going.

Remember to check our blog out on tumblr: pimpdaddyklaus

And please, please review. It really does help inspire me to write for you guys. And I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


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